


The Last Dance

by Romiress



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Religious Content, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 16:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: When Father Todd finds a man in the trash, he doesn't know what to expect.---Written for the Jay x Jay challenge on Tumblr.





	The Last Dance

He's used to seeing bodies, but _ this _ body is something else. Most bodies he finds in the bad part of Crime Alley (as much as Crime Alley has a bad part, because Jason's pretty sure most people would argue the whole place is _ the _ bad part) have already stripped down of anything of value.

This one's wearing a suit of armor.

That's what he thinks it is, anyway. It might be a particularly elaborate cosplay, but he's guessing it's some kind of armor. Probably for a vigilante. Mabe for a supervillain. It's got a sort of military motif, and the suit itself _ seems _ pretty intact, save for the copious amounts of blood soaking the one side.

Jason lets himself observe, noting the shallow rise and fall of the man's chest, and is relieved to realize he's not dead.

There's never really any question about what he's going to do. Gotham's police are so corrupt they're downright predictable about it, and if he calls anyone with any sort of say the man in the armor's going to end up dead if he's lucky.

So he brings him inside.

Removing his armor proves impossible, so Jason simply leaves him in it, doing what he can through it. He wipes off the worst of the blood, noting that he's already stopped bleeding, and then shoves some gauze into the hole in the armor that he's fairly sure is a bullet hole.

Then he waits to see if his guest's going to wake up.

It takes so long he starts to suspect he's going to have to get rid of a body, but when he goes to check late the second afternoon, his guest is sitting up. It's hard to say if he's staring at him, but Jason imagines that he is, because the helmet's turned towards him, the mask hiding his face completely.

"You're up!" Jason says, trying to sound enthusiastic. He really is happy they're alive, but he _ does _ find the whole armor-that-he-can't-take-off thing to be kind of _ irritating. _ There are a lot of issues with it, the least of which being he hasn't been able to give them any sort of food and water.

The figure doesn't say anything, just stares up at him, and Jason lets out a small sigh.

It's not the first time he's had to carry a conversation entirely on his own, but it never really gets any easier.

"Well," Jason says carefully, "I'll go get you some food. You need your strength to help you recover, and-"

"No," a voice says. It's impossible to say much about it, because it's distorted by the mask he's wearing, but at a very minimum the fact that he _ can _ talk is a good sign.

"...No?" Jason says carefully. "You do need to eat. You need to-"

"I'll eat in private," the man says, and Jason falters.

He's either hiding his identity or ashamed of what's under the mask. Jason's seen both types in his time at the church, and he tries not to let it bother him.

"That's fine," he says. "I can leave you some food here, and you can feed yourself."

He knows better than to push.

The arrangement works for three days. By the third day, his guest's already restless, pushing the boundaries of what someone with a bullet hole in them should be doing. He's up and out of bed when Jason delivers breakfast, and despite his attempts to get them back in bed, it's a wasted effort.

They lock him out of his own bathroom that afternoon, and when Jason next sees them they look considerably cleaner. It's obvious they've washed, cleaning both themselves _ and _ their gear before redressing.

"You don't need the armor," Jason points out. "You're a guest here. Who you are isn't really important."

"It is," the stranger says.

"You could at least give your name."

"No."

"Something to call you?"

"No."

"Then I'll come up with something to call you," Jason says, and waits for another _ no. _

He doesn't get one, so he takes it as a yes.

"Adrian," he says. "After Adrian of Nicomedia. Patron saint of guards and soldiers."

Technically _ one _ of the patron saints of soldiers, but he thinks it's appropriate. Whatever _ Adrian _ has been up to, it seems to fall under his saint's purview.

They fall into an uneasy peace. He delivers meals, and Adrian eats them in solitude. He keeps to himself, and not long after he first leaves his room, Jason finds him with a book he's pinched from the church's small lending library.

"You don't have to hide it," Jason points out, but Adrian doesn't even acknowledge him.

Things come to a head almost two weeks after he first pulls Adrian out of the trash.

It's not something he means to do. He's hoping Adrian will stay long enough to actually heal. But he's not thinking about that at all when he lets himself into the bathroom to shower after service, soaked with sweat from the August heat.

He catches only the quickest of glances—dark hair, a lot of skin—before he's knocked to the ground.

Adrian fights like a man possessed. Even the fact that Jason isn't fighting him doesn't stop him from cracking Jason's head against the floor, flipping him over before twisting his arm up behind his back. Adrian finishes the rather embarrassing 'fight' by sitting on his lower back, keeping him from either moving _ or _ seeing him.

He could fight back. Jason knows how. And even after years away from that life, he's still strong as hell. All the instincts are still there, begging to be used.

But he keeps himself in place. He keeps himself still. If he doesn't resist, Adrian won't feel as frightened.

Or that's the theory anyway.

Adrian drags a hand up along his back and Jason shudders at the contact, breath catching. He is suddenly very aware of the fact that Adrian is... what? Probably naked, if the half-glimpse he saw was anything to go by.

"Stop that," he says, trying to sound threatening rather than embarrassed or alarmed. The truth is that now he _ is _ sort of alarmed. He let himself go down easy to avoid upsetting them, but now he's put himself in a position where he isn't sure he'll be able to get out.

He tries. When Adrian doesn't stop, rough fingers reaching up under Jason's shirt, Jason fights. He rocks up, fighting for leverage, but with Adrian sitting just above his hips he doesn't have anywhere to go. He reaches back with his free arm, trying to grab, but Adrian simply twists his pinned arm harder and he's forced to end the attempt.

"Stop it," Jason says, and this time it isn't an order: it's a plea, a desperate attempt to appeal to whatever kindness Adrian might have as the other man lifts up the back of his shirt.

Adrian's fingers catch on the mess of scar tissue along Jason's upper back. He barely has sensation there, so he can't feel the touch, but he _ can _ feel the way Adrian hikes his shirt up to his shoulders to get a better view.

He doesn't want him seeing. It's bad enough knowing it's there, let alone having someone inspect it.

"How?" Adrian asks. His voice sounds different without the mask, younger and more raspy. He sounds like he hasn't spoken in months, but there's something familiar about his voice that Jason can't place.

When Jason doesn't answer, Adrian twists his arm again, and Jason grits his teeth.

"I took you in," he says, "because I believe in being kind to your fellow man. But this isn't kindness. Your _ hurting _ me."

He isn't expecting it to work. Not really. But it has always made himself feel better to vocalize his own thoughts, as if it somehow makes them more real.

But Adrian does release him, and Jason lets out a hiss of pain as the blood rushes back into his poor abused arm. He shakes it out, trying to regain blood flow, but his position still isn't great. His head is throbbing from hitting the ground earlier, and Adrian's still sitting on his lower back.

He's heavier than he looks, even without the armor.

"I'm going to get up," Adrian says, "and you're going to stay right there until I'm gone."

He doesn't wait for confirmation, just starts sliding off him, leaving Jason alone on the floor. Adrian clearly wants to keep his secret, and Jason's wary of breaking that trust, so he stays where he is until the door clicks shut behind them.

Explaining the bruises during that evenings service turns out to be less of an issue than he originally thought. Working in Crime Alley means no one so much as bats an eye, although a few people do ask to make sure he's alright. One even inquires if it was a break-in, and Jason tells them it was just a misunderstanding.

But he doesn't fail to miss when, during the service, a familiar outline appears up on the balcony near the top of the church, watching him from where a pianist might have played if they'd been able to afford to repair the churches old piano.

Adrian stays there through the whole thing, watching him as he works his way through mass for those unable to make it to a morning service.

Adrian vanishes when he finishes, and remains out of sight as the congregation files out of the building.

"You believe," is the greeting Jason gets when he retires to the living quarters in the back of the church. Adrian's leaning up against the wall, armor back on, arms folded across his chest.

"In God?" Jason asks. "Yes, I believe."

"You believe in someone who has never shown you any kindness."

They've never spoken about Jason's past, but his scars speak volumes about the sort of life he's lead.

"He has shown me plenty of kindness. Being kind doesn't mean removing all obstacles for someone... It means giving them the strength to overcome those obstacles."

When Adrian is silent, Jason continues.

"Like a parent. A parent shouldn't do everything for their child, letting them live a life without any sort of challenge. They should teach their child how to do things, so that they can overcome those challenges by their own power."

"Whatever gave you that scar wasn't a _ challenge," _Adrian says. "You should have died."

"I did die," Jason says, and even without seeing his face he can see the surprise Adrian must feel just from the way his body twitches. "God saw fit to bring me back. To help me walk down this path, which in turn lets me help others."

Adrian is silent again, and Jason thinks he's probably thinking.

He gets ready for bed, leaving Adrian to stew in his own thoughts, and he's surprised when Adrian knocks at his door later that night. It's the first time he's done anything of the sort, usually keeping to himself past dark.

"I want to stay," Adrian says. It's straight to the point, but Jason simply nods.

"There's plenty of work around the church, so that won't be an issue. The rooms yours for as long as you need it."

Adrian becomes something of a handyman. He's good with his hands and a quick learner, but the armor hinders him in his work. There's only so much he can do while wearing it, and the oddness of it requires him to stay out of sight.

"You really need to get into some actual clothes," Jason points out. "The armor can't be very comfortable."

"I need to... stay like this." 

"You really don't," Jason says. "It's just the two of us, and whatever your trying to hide doesn't need to be hidden."

"You'd think differently if you knew what it was," Adrian says.

"There are no secrets from God," Jason says, "but fear not, for he does not judge."

"He should," Adrian says, looking away. It says a lot about the kind of secret he must be keeping, and if Jason were a betting man he'd have put money on guilt being a major factor. A wanted man, maybe?

"He doesn't," Jason says. "Nor do I. We all have our trials, and we all have our sins. God loves us despite them."

There's a moment of silence between them.

"If I bring you something that will hide your face other then the mask, will you wear it?" Jason asks, and Adrian hesitates before finally answering.

"If I must."

Jason goes searching the next day before he does the weekly shopping. He picks out the most inoffensive, neutral clothes imaginable, and guesses at Adrian's sizes when pressed. Covering his face is a harder challenge. He needs something more comfortable and less restricting than the helmet, but also something that covers his face enough to let him feel comfortable wearing it. He gets some odd looks walking into a paintball supply store in his cassock, but no one actually asks _ why _ as he picks out two masks.

He delivers his selections to Adrian later that afternoon, showing him the masks first.

"This one will hide your eyes," he says, "but it's a lot more bulky. This one leaves them clear, but is a lot smaller."

He leaves the masks with Adrian and goes to start dinner.

When Adrian comes to fetch his food, he's wearing the smaller mask, and it gets Jason his first look at the man that isn't met with immediate violence. 

His hair is black and overgrown, clearly having not been cut for quite a while. His skin is pale on the side of chalky, and his eyes are a bright blue-green color. There's an intensity in those eyes that Jason wasn't prepared for, but he tries to give him a friendly smile anyway as Adrian steps into the room.

"Everything fit?" He asks. The clothes are around the right size, even if they don't fit his frame very well. He aimed for them to be a bit too large just in case, but seems to have underestimated just how big he is. Adrian is a _ big _ guy, broad at the shoulders and heavily muscled. Jason's made a point to get him long sleeves and pants to hide as much skin as possible, but his hands are still free, and they show heavy scarring.

He's pretty sure he was right on the _ ashamed of what's under the mask _ guess.

Adrian still won't eat with him, but after he's done Jason makes him sit down, pulling up the side of his new shirt to show the bullet hole. It's already started to heal over, but absolutely awfully, and there's no doubt in Jason's mind it's going to leave a terrible scar.

It'll have company. There's scars all over Adrian, even in the tiny patch of skin he's willing to show Jason.

"I think it's past the point where stitches will help," Jason says, "and it looks like there's no exit wound." If it's been in there so long without any obvious complications, he can only hope Adrian's body has already sealed it off. "Does it hurt?"

Adrian shrugs, which is _ not _ the answer he's looking for. He frowns, leaning down to inspect the wound, and eventually settles for putting some antiseptic and a heavy duty bandage from his first aid kit on it.

Adrian starts becoming more present around the church after that. He sits up on the balcony during services, and helps out around the church at other times. People start to notice him, but Adrian fends off any questions with a practiced ease.

That's one nice thing about Crime Alley: People tend to leave well enough alone.

Adrian's been there a month and a half when he tries to very gently broach the subject again.

"You know," Jason says, "it would be nice to have company for dinner. It's been-"

"No."

Jason frowns at that. It's hard striking a balance, trying not to push too hard while _ also _ trying to make sure he's not letting Adrian get away with too much.

"Whatever scars you're hiding," Jason says, "I have plenty of my own. You've already seen some of them. Do you really think someone with a scar like that would judge you for your own?"

Adrian is still and quiet at that. He seems to be thinking, and being able to see his eyes makes things that much more obvious. He's unfocused, lost in his own head, and Jason reaches out carefully, resting a hand on the back of Adrian's own.

"God doesn't judge," he says, "but neither do I."

He isn't expecting it to work. He almost never does. He considers himself a realist, well aware that most people are not affected in any way by his reminders. He tries them anyway, and finds himself pleasantly surprised when people are.

Adrian is, apparently. He reaches up, undoing the straps at the back of his mask, and then pulls it off, looking up at Jason.

Jason Todd stares at Jason Todd.

There's no doubt in Jason's mind that the man in front of him is _ him. _ They have the same face, the same bone structure. No one would doubt they were brothers, standing side by side. Most would assume they were twins. Once upon a time, they probably looked identical, but years on very different paths have deviated them. Jason's skin is healthy and clean, his scars eased out over the years leaving only the particularly large ones. The shock of white on his bangs differentiates him further, but the most obvious difference is Adrian's scars.

He has a lot. What Jason originally took to be dehydration is simply years of abuse on his poor skin. There's dozens of small scars, thin white lines and bits of discoloration. The most obvious is what Jason knows must be a brand, a simple _ J _ on his left cheek. It looks like it's been years since it happened, but it still stands out, obvious and alarming.

"I don't... I don't understand," Jason says, trying to keep his emotions in check. A twin? A twin brother he didn't even know existed? Only minutes before he'd have sworn to god he was an only child, but the possibility of there being a second...

"This isn't my world," Adrian says. "I became... misplaced. Things are different here."

A different world. He wants to be shocked at that, but he's having a hard time doing so. The world's turned on its head in more ways than one, and a whole other world is... not as strange as it might have been only a few years ago.

"Who are you?" Jason asks.

"You already know," Adrian says. There's no point in pretending that they don't. In pretending like Jason isn't looking not at _ Adrian, _ but at _ Jason Todd. _

"What... what do I call you then?" Because even if his name is Jason Todd, he can't imagine _ calling _ him that. It feels... wrong.

"Jay," he says, reaching up to replace the mask. He's self conscious, and there's little wonder why with the brand on his face. Whatever fate Jay encountered in his own world seems impossibly harsh.

"Jay," Jason says carefully, trying it out. He's been _ Jason _ or _ Father Todd _ for so long that Jay no longer rings in his ears as it once might have.

"How did you get here?" He makes himself ask, because that seems important. It seems like something he needs to directly address.

Jay averts his eyes, refusing to meet Jason's own. It's something he's ashamed of. Something he doesn't want to talk about.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "What matters is that I'm here now. I don't think I could go back if I tried."

"This doesn't change things," Jason says. "You're still welcome to stay. We can say you're my... my brother."

"No," Jay says a bit too quickly. "We're not brothers. No one will recognize anything with the mask on."

Jay makes them eat separately, even after everything he knows, eating in his room in silence.

Jason lies in bed that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering about what's happened to his life. Every guess he made was right, but also completely wrong. There's no way he could have guessed at _ this, _ no way he could have guessed that Adrian was _ him. _

A misplaced him with more scars than even he has.

It's three in the morning and he hasn't gotten a moment of sleep when his door cracks open. It's so dark he can barely tell, and he stays perfectly still, listening as someone—definitely Jay—slips inside.

Jason tenses in his bed. People sneaking into other people's room _ never _ comes with good intentions.

Jay lingers by the doorway for a long moment before he finally comes farther in, stopping just beside Jason's bed. He closes his eyes before gets that close, letting himself just _ listen _ as he feigns sleep.

"You're not asleep," Jay says above him, and he cracks an eye open in response.

"You're in my room," Jason points out. "Most people would wake up."

"Did I wake you?"

Jason pauses for a moment, and then shakes his head. He pushes himself upright, sitting up in his bed, and Jay sits down beside him automatically.

"I want to see," Jay says.

"See _ what?" _ Jason asks. "If you wanted to see something, seeing with light-"

Jay's hand ghosts across the skin on his back, and Jason swallows hard. That. He wanted to see the scar.

"It's a mess," he says. "There's not much to see."

"I still want to see," Jay says.

Jason goes still, letting Jay's fingers run across his back. Half the time he can't feel them at all, the scar tissue deadening the sensation, but when he can it makes the hairs on his arms stand up, making him tense and uncomfortable.

"What happened?" Jay asks him, and it's very suddenly Jason who doesn't want to talk about things. He doesn't want to share that, doesn't want to talk about it. Having Jay's fingers running across the scar on his back is already bad enough.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says. He tries not to lie to him, trying to be direct, but Jay still seems hurt, pulling his hand away.

He stands, lifting away from the bed, and leaves without another world. He's taking the rejection hard, but Jason is too wound up to do much other than lie back down in his bed, staring at the ceiling until he has to get up for work.

Jay avoids him the next day, but does end up eating with him the day after that. It's nice not being alone in the small kitchen, and he takes Jay's sizes before going out to get him some more clothes. Jay is larger than he is, more muscular, and it's hard finding things that fit him properly.

Jay becomes more of a presence in the church. The congregation knows him as Jay, and Jason introduces him as a friend. Plenty of them seem bothered by the mask, but they're all too polite to say anything to his face, even if Jason is sure there are rumors. He manages to lure Jay down to the church proper during services, and he takes a seat right in the back, listening in.

Days turn into months. When someone from higher up announces that they're visiting (a rare occasion, considering his posting), Jay tries to hide himself. Jason tells him that he doesn't need to, and the man coming to check in doesn't seem terribly bothered. Jason's fairly sure he thinks that he's a refugee, but he does commend Jason on managing to keep the church open so long without a break in.

It's another two weeks before he learns there have been attempts, but that Jay's sent anyone who tries packing. He finds out when he goes to the bathroom late one night and finds the side door open, and when he peeks outside he catches Jason dumping someone over the churches wall. It's dark enough he can barely see what's happening, but when he returns to the door to find Jason standing there, Jay's knuckles are bloody.

He wonders how he managed to hide that, and realizes very quickly that maybe Jay isn't _ quite _ as clumsy with the gardening as he's made himself appear.

He brings Jay back inside, sees to his hands, and sends him to bed. They talk about it the following morning, and Jason learns that several times people _ have _ made attempts to rob the church, only to be routed by Jay's efforts.

"This is home now," Jay says. "I'm not going to let them loot it."

In bits and pieces, Jason learns things about Jay's world. He learns that it was a harsh place, but nothing like this Gotham. He learned that there was a Batman there, but that he was a good man. Jay seems pained when he talks about him, and only ever seems to mention him in passing. He talks in fits and starts about things that don't really matter, but every word he shares about his old home makes it that much more obvious that Jay is willing to open up to him.

The next time Jay visits his room at night, Jason is not awake. He only wakes midway through, the sound of Jay's soft panting breaths drawing him from his sleep.

He wonders if it maybe _ wasn't _ the second time he's snuck in, because Jay seems well practiced in leaving without disturbing him as he slips back out when he's finished.

He starts sleeping in fits and starts, wondering if he imagined it. Wondering if he imagined Jay on his knees beside Jason's bed, his face exposed, his pants around his knees as he jerked himself to completion watching Jason sleep.

He wonders if there wasn't some significance in the way he rejected being _ brothers. _

The next time it happens, Jason is awake. He feigns sleep as Jay slips inside the room, closing the door behind himself. He makes it all the way to Jason's bedside before Jason opens his eyes, looking up at him. Jay freezes, a deer in the headlights, and Jason half expects him to bolt as he sits up in bed.

The fact that he sleeps shirtless has never before made him feel exposed, but right then it certainly does.

"Sit," he says, and pats the bed beside him. Jay hesitates, standing there in the dim light, and then finally does.

When Jay turns to look at him, Jason leans in to pull him into a kiss. It's soft, as gentle as he can make it, but the harsh contrast of Jay's rough lips against his own feels intoxicating. They're rough and scarred, just like the rest of him, but Jay practically melts into him, desperate for all the feelings that come along with it.

Acceptance. Welcome.

Jason breaks the kiss for a moment, and then kisses him again anyway.

He accepts to feel a pang of guilt. He expects for his mind to burn with reminders of his vows. Instead he feels nothing. God does not strike him down. Demons do not appear to laugh at his temptation.

Instead it feels right. It feels right that the man at his side—the man who is in so many ways _ himself— _ would be there with him. It feels right that he would curl into his side, eager for affection. And it feels right when Jay seeks that affection for himself, kissing at Jason's neck in a manner that can only be described as _ hungry. _

"It is not good for man to be alone," Jason mutters to himself. He doesn't think Jay understands what he means by it, but he allows himself to be pulled back down into the bed, curling against Jason before finally falling asleep.

They don't talk about what happened the following morning.

They don't talk about it at all for almost a week, when Jason finally sits Jay down at the table.

"I love you," he says, getting directly to the point.

Jay chokes on his toast.

It takes him a moment to recover himself, coughing to clear his airway before downing a glass of water. Even then, he doesn't really look _ recovered, _ just like he's not actually dying.

"What?" He says. "You-"

"Love you," Jason says, trying to be as clear as possible.

He'd sort of assumed the feeling was mutual, considering what Jay had been up to, but now he's second guessing himself.

"If you don't-" He starts, but that seems to kick Jay into action.

"I do," he blurts. "You are - I don't even know how to - I can't figure out how to say it."

"You don't have to," Jason says. "You already told me enough."

"But there..." Jay starts, faltering. "There are problems. We can't just-"

"We can," Jason says. "And will."

"You're a _ priest," _ Jay says. "You have... vows... This is wrong on... so many levels-"

"I believe in God," Jason says. "I believe in a kind God, who loves all his children. I don't believe in a God who would bring you all the way here and put you in my path just to tell me that my feelings for you are wrong."

"But you're still-" Jay starts, faltering again. He seems deeply uncertain, plagued by the very doubts that Jason _ thought _ he would have, and yet feels strangely unbothered by. "You're still a priest."

"I'll apply for a dispensation," he says. "To be released from my vows."

"But you can't-"

"I understand," Jason says, with all the ease he can manage. "It will mean leaving the church. But we'll make do."

"This is your _ life," _ Jay protests. "This is your home and your job and _ everything. _You can't just give it up."

"I can," Jason says. "I want to."

"I'm not - I'm not _ worth _ it," Jay says, and he seems so broken down that it breaks Jason's heart.

"You are," he says. "And it's my choice to make."

"But I'm not-"

"You are," Jason says again. "This is what I want. I'm not going to... to _ not _ go for it because of my job. Life's too short for that."

He kisses Jay again to remind himself that it's real and that it's worth it, and then he gets to work.

He reports back that he's leaving that evening. They ask him to stay on until his replacement can arrive, and he lets the congregation know later that night. He isn't allowed to tell them _ why, _ but people come to ask him anyway. They ask what he's doing, and he tells them the truth: That he hasn't lost faith, but that he's leaving the church.

He's pretty sure the rumor's started before service is even over. People know that Jay's living in the church. They've seen him at services. They know there's a mysterious man who hides his face with Jason, hanging off his every word.

Jason puts his faith in God to find him a way.

God does not fail him.

He's approached after evening service by a man he's seen only a few times before. He introduces himself as a bishop for another denomination, and explains that he's had a hard time keeping a priest in their church. Jason knows the one, even if he's never been inside, and isn't surprised to hear they've had a hard time. Crime Alley has few churches, even though it desperately needs them. Priests from outside of Gotham rarely want to take a position in Gotham if they can help it, and _ no one _ wants a position near Crime Alley, let alone inside it.

Jason tries to politely decline, expecting that the admission that he's seeing a man will dissuade him. It doesn't. In fact, it turns out to be not an issue at all, and the man is all smiles as he announces that it isn't an issue.

They go out for dinner to discuss the proposition, and by the time Jason comes home they've already come to an agreement.

"We're moving," Jason says when Jay finds him in the little kitchen they share. "Our new friend Michael's been trying to get a priest to take over the church for months. It's a little bit smaller than this one, but the living quarters are a bit bigger, and no one's living there right now."

"That easy?" Jay asks, and Jason kisses him on the mouth again to celebrate.

"That easy," he says. "I think he was expecting me to hold out for more, but he made a fair offer."

They move a week later. There's not much to actually _ move, _ and their new living quarters is already furnished, but they make a big deal of it. A little celebration.

The church _ is _ a lot smaller, but that's mostly by virtue of being less grand. The new church is less decorated and more modern, and Jay seems happy to finally have internet that isn't dial-up.

The Bishop seems to get the general impression that Jay isn't _ quite _ their legally, and he ends up applying as a refugee. It's easy enough to claim he's a European refugee, and the churches sponsorship eases the path.

He watches Jay struggle with the paperwork at the table in their new kitchen, and can't understand why until he peeks over his shoulder. Jay's left the name field blank, chewing on his lip as he pours over it.

"You can just write it down," Jason says.

"You don't think someone will notice that Jason Todd and Jason Todd are living together?"

Jason can't exactly argue that, so he settles for sitting down at the little table.

"Just go with what feels right," Jason says. "And try not to stress."

Jay fills out _ Adrian Jason Wayne _ and sends the form in.

It's a month before Jason's cleared to start actually holding services. The first service draws only three people including Jay, but it's good to be preaching again.

The news says that Atlanteans have been spotted on the coast, and there are rumors of Amazons in the west. The news gets progressively grimmer, and Jason's second service is half full. He recognizes plenty of faces from the last church, and greets most of them by name. They tell him his replacement has already put in for a transfer, and that he preaches nothing but the fact that it's the end of times.

"This is Gotham," Jason says with a laugh. "We've been ready for the end of days since before I was born."

His return to work doesn't go unnoticed, and when Jason takes a break with Jay the night after his third service, he spots a silhouette on a nearby roof, watching them from above.

Jason waves to the Batman, who turns away and walks out of sight.

"He's here for me," Jay says quietly.

"For you?" Jason asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I know who he is."

"Well," Jason says, "maybe keep it under your hat. He's not exactly to my taste, but a lot of people like having him around. With the police in the state they are, for a lot of people he's the only person who might come if they yell for help."

They don't see the Batman again, even if they hear that he's keeping busy.

The church fills up, and Jason's old church empties out. They can't keep a priest for more than a few weeks, and everyone but the most _ die-hard _ of Catholics makes the change. They don't want to hear how the world is ending because they're all sinners. They come to church to be comforted. As the state of the world degrades, that comfort becomes that much more important.

"Do you think the world's ending?" Jay asks him one evening as they watch the sun dip behind Gotham's skyline. The news is grim: Early sightings of Atlanteans in the bay. Amazonians farther up the coast. Gotham's days are numbered.

"I don't pretend to understand what God has in store for us," Jason says. "But I don't think it really matters."

Jay's eyebrows go up at that, and after a moment he relaxes, leaning on Jason's shoulder.

"Tell me why it doesn't matter," he says, and Jason knows that means he's looking for comfort.

"If the world ends, then it ends. No one person can change that. So it's in God's hands."

"And you trust him."

"He brought me you."

He wraps an arm around Jay's shoulders, and Jay curls against him.

"I don't... think we're going the same place," Jay says quietly. "I've done a lot of things."

"God doesn't care about the things you've done," Jason says. "He knows what's in your heart. He knows that you're a good person, and that you've been doing what you thought was best."

"I killed myself," Jay says quietly. "I think this might be purgatory."

Jason has suspected it for a long time. Jason rarely talks about life before, but when he does it always seems to be in grim, fatalistic terms. He knows that he did a number of terrible things. He knows that Jay was hurt in an absolutely horrific manner.

"I helped kill someone I cared about," Jay says. "I should have stopped. I should have realized-"

He starts to weep, and Jason holds him tightly, letting him cry it all out.

"When the bible says to forgive as the Lord forgave you," Jason says, "that also includes yourself. You're a good person, Jay. And if this is purgatory, then we're here together."

He smiles, just a bit, and kisses Jason again.

"But it's not," he says, "because purgatory is Catholic, and we're protestant now."

Jay laughs at that, and then goes quiet for a moment.

"Can we get married?" He asks.

Jason tries not to look _ too _ surprised, and fails horribly.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

A part of him feels like it's a bit soon. They've only known each other for a year.

A part of him feels like the world really _ is _ ending, and maybe it's not soon enough.

"Yes," Jay says. "It matters after your dead, doesn't it?"

Jason laughs at that.

"Not really," he says. "No. But we still can, if you want to."

Jay does want to.

It starts to rain, and they make the walk three streets over to the only church still operating in Crime Alley right then. Jason knows the priest, who's halfway through a bottle of wine.

"I think the world's ending," he says when he sees them.

"We want to get married," Jason says.

In the end, that's all he really needs to say. The old priest marries them in an empty church, and they both ignore the feeling of dread bearing down on them.

They walk back home. Rather than going back to the small living quarters they call home, Jason heads into the church itself, turning on all the lights. He sets up the churches audio system and puts on an old, romantic song, and only then does he hold his hand out for Jay.

"Dance with me," he says.

They both know the end is coming. They can feel the world they're living in fraying at the edges, the sense of _ ending _ as strong as it can be.

"I'm happy it's with you," Jay says, his face buried in Jason's shoulder as they sway back and forth to the music. "Even if I wish it had lasted longer."

"We've got eternity," Jason says, dancing one last slow dance as the world around them vanishes into nothing.


End file.
